The Soloist
by Esuna
Summary: AU. After seven years abroad, Taichi returns to Japan and meets a interesting individual with an interesting personality. TaiTo and DaiKen slash yaoi.
1. Chapter One

**Title:** The Soloist  
**Rating:** PG  
**Chapter: **1/2  
**Genre:** AU, General, Romance, Angst  
**Pairings:** TaiTo, DaiKen allusions  
**Summary:** After seven years abroad, Taichi returns to Japan and meets a interesting individual with an interesting personality.  
**DISCLAIMER:** Standard disclaimers apply.

Author's Notes: This is an AU because it only features the human characters, and there will be no reference to any digimon. Written basically because of the dissatisfaction toward the ending of 02, which only causes me headaches whenever I recall it.  
            Might appear OOC.

~*~*~*~

            Seven years.

            To many, seven years might seem no different from, say, seven months or seventeen years. These are the type of beings who consider Time as an entity too abstract, too impotent to be a measuring tape, putting little or no value to whatever Life has brought upon us humans, torturing martyrs unceasingly or tossing euphoria like colourful confetti on those who struggle to survive in its demanding nature. The second group, relatively small or, it is assumed, no less than the other two, descends seven years to a mere seven hours. They are too busy to resume life, that the departure and arrival of Time is, to put it simply, too fast to be accounted for and before long, they find themselves chasing after lost, precious seconds, trying desperately to catch up. The third, contrariwise, seven years might seem like an eternity, for there are times when the omniscient God and old Father Time join forces in creating a few obstacles here and there in their subjects' path of life, making it arduous to those who are too weak to stand up and persevere.

            Yagami Taichi belonged to this latter clan.

            He had been too anxious, too persistent to forget every painful event in his younger, specifically teenage days, but in vain. Every sunrise greeted him not with a promise of a new, perhaps better day, but with a distressing melancholic tune tapping lightly, yet with profound magnitude of force, on his eardrums. He himself was surprised as to how his self-control had always managed to avoid him from tying that menacing rope around his neck.

            So far, to his eyes, seven years had not changed Japan much. Which, he added silently, he could not say the same for himself.

            Sure, he did not undergo any plastic surgery in America—there was no need for one, his logic had asserted. Surgeries don't help you to forgo your history just to introduce a new one. Gone was his bushy hairdo, and wrinkles were all over his visage. It is horrible what infinite stress can do to one's hair and appearance.     Only one medium sized suitcase in hand, he exited the vaguely familiar, busy airport, scrambling through the pushing crowd. He hailed a cab, which brought him to a place he least expected to be stepping into before his misfortune.

            A pub.

            After paying the taxi driver and murmuring a curt "Thanks", he entered the place. "_Heartbreak Pub_," he said to nobody in particular. "A queer name for a pub."

            The only fact odder than that depressing title was the atmosphere in which the place was shrouded with. Taichi had expected a loud noise, a result of all the exuberant chatting and intoxicated laughter from the inhabitants to welcome him. Yet, he was somewhat taken aback by the grotesque quiescence, as if nobody there acknowledged his or her companion; in lieu, they minded their own business, entertaining their misery in awkward silence. Drinking to forget, it seemed, was their prime objective.

            For some reason, Taichi knew he was at the best place for him at the moment.

            Taichi occupied a vacant seat near the counter, where a zealous bartender, who contrasted greatly to his working environment, attended to him.

            "Good evening, sir!" said he, cheerfully yet keeping his voice down, not wanting to bother the other customers. "What will your order be?"

            "I…I'm not really a drinker," admitted Taichi, suddenly feeling out of place.

            "No? Its all right. We serve non-alcoholic beverages too."

            Thankful, Taichi requested for a tall glass of carbonated drink. Within seconds, he found himself sipping chilled, pleasantly refreshing Coke.

            "Your first time visit, I reckon?" asked the bartender conversationally.

            "Yeah. I didn't know this place existed before."

            "You must be from out of town. We've been in business since three years ago."

            "I just came back from America. I…used to live here."

            "I see. You're here to celebrate Valentine?"

            Taichi felt the pit of his stomach drop. "…Not really."

            "This place gets more packed during holiday seasons and special occasions. If you don't believe me, try coming on, say, Christmas Eve or even Valentine's Day. Lots of people without families or loved ones, especially, and some out of misanthropy , felt lonely sitting in front of their television set amidst all the celebration out there, so they prefer passing the time in company of those who are in the same boat, even though they hardly exchanged anything, be it words or cards."

            Taichi found this piece of news to be quite bizarre as he was no anthropologist. "I see how the name of this bar suits its customers," said he in comprehension.

            Taichi's companion, with a heavy sigh, leant forward as if to deliver some sort of a national secret. "Do you know why the owner called this place _Heartbreak_? Well, sir, originally the name was _Cherry Lady_, but in the early stages of his business, he noted that his customers were mainly made up of people who were upset or heartbroken, partly because of failure in relationships. Before one month barely passed, the owner himself separated with his wife. Too devastated, he rechristened this whole establishment, taking his own feelings as its namesake."

            Taichi nodded in conception, having understood exactly how the man must have felt. He asked for a refill, intending to drink for the owner's luck In the future.

            "But we get interesting customers every now and then," resumed the bartender discreetly, wiping the spotless table. "There's Mr. Yamada who orders one type of drink for one night. That means, in a week, he drinks seven heavy not to mention expensive beers. He announced to me that since his wife has abandoned him, nobody is there to control him anymore. I can tell he's still strung about her…

            "But if you ask me, there's another guy who really takes the cake…"

            Taichi fingered his glass, trying hard to look interested. Truthfully, ever since he left Japan, he no longer found it necessary to hear stories about another.

            "He comes everyday, sir, at 12 midnight exactly. He orders the same lager fifteen minutes later, and after gulping the whole thing down in one go, he moans and he rants…I think he's still sober, because no inebriated man can ever spout as much sense as he does…and he's poetic too."

            "Poetic?" echoed Taichi, incredulous. "Sense?"

            "Indeed, sir. Nobody knows for sure whether it was a poem or not, but it was…different. He rambles the same poem over and over again…"

            '_Now that,'_ thought Taichi, '_is what I call interesting.' _"What's his tale, err…"

            "Kenji, sir, call me Kenji." The raven haired young man wiped a champagne glass dry. "The Poet—that's what my pals and I call him—talks about his miserable love life and how he longs for someone who he loves so deeply. He'd give anything to turn back time and mend the damage…"

            Taichi glimpsed at the wall clock just above Kenji's head. "It's five minutes to twelve, so I'll be able to see him for myself. He intrigues me."

            Kenji grinned knowingly. "I understand, sir. His poem's simple but to me, it's still beautiful because in every line you can tell there's emotion woven into it. Indubitably, there's artistic blood flowing in his veins." With that, he left Taichi for another customer.

            Taichi waited in anticipation, his eyes tailing the hands of the clock. He was looking forward to meeting the guy in the flesh, hoping to meet his acquaintance. Finally, when the longer hand overlapped the shorter, he turned to look at the door.

            A man slightly above average height, clad in a high collared coat and a hat which concealed his eyes, walked in, almost dragging his feet The entire room had gone quieter, as if paying respect to him. He approached the counter, sat at the very end, and bent his body, his face buried in his arms.

            Taichi was beginning to doubt his initial intention. For one thing, the man did not look friendly, and he might chase Taichi away crudely. He next waited eagerly for the illustrious poem. And, sure enough, it came.

            "One…Day and night, yet we were one…  
             Two…But I broke your heart into two…  
             Three…Everything changed among us three…  
             Four…After she came, you were no more…  
             Five…And now I'm barely alive…"

            Taichi gazed at him as his croaky voice dominated the vast space, sympathetic for The Poet and, strangely enough, himself. The poem reminded him of the moments he had wanted to forget.

            "If only he's here too…" murmured Taichi.

            Thinking of Yamato, his best friend and his object of affection, brought both pain and joy. Painful, for he was his closest friend and vice versa, in the past but presently, he was out of his reach forever. Joy, for love is a funny thing—his anger towards Yamato died away because of it, and it only reminded him of the heavenly friendship they had shared.

            His reminiscence of Yamato ceased once The Poet's voice faded away, and silence took over once again. The morose individual bent down and brought his head on the counter, covering his face with his folded arms. Everyone resumed their previous activities.

            Curiosity got the best of him, that he approached the depressed poet. He gestured at Kenji, asking him to bring the man his nightly beverage. Kenji obeyed, served The Poet his lager and ran off to the table at the corner of the room.

            "Hey," greeted Taichi, nervous. He had every reason to, and he had not the least idea on how to befriend a complete stranger. A complete, eccentric stranger.

            The Poet merely grunted "Mmm…" in response, aloof.

            Taichi sat on the stool next to him tentatively. "I, uh, listened to your poem…"

            No reply. Either the man was too engrossed in his own thoughts, or he had no interest in listening what Taichi had to say.

            "Life's like that, huh?" Taichi continued, not at all bothered if he was solely talking to himself. For now, he would just pretend he had a listener. "One minutes we have everything we've ever wanted, the next, poof!" He snapped his fingers to add to the effect of his speech. "Gone. Not a single trace. And we're left groping to retrieve our loss, most of the time failing wretchedly."

            "It's too far away for me to get it back," muttered The Poet, barely audible.

            "You've lost everything?"

            "I've only lost one, and with it, everything."

            "Sounds like a love problem."

            "True. Amazing how it brings happiness to some, misery upon others."

            "I understand."

            "No, you don't. You don't understand how it feels to love someone you're not supposed to, and how your love disappears on you without warning."

            "'S matter lf fact, I've had my own does, and I agree it's not exactly a walk in the park." Taichi sighed dejectedly. He could feel he was starting to win The Poet's attention, little by little. "But a part of me tells me it's better this way. You know what they say; It's better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all. I remind myself with that quote every time I find myself regretting for ever being close to him." As soon as he said his last word, he immediately wished he hadn't, lest the idea of his sexuality discomforted his companion. Luckily for Taichi, The Poet seemed all right with it, for he did not budge his stool away from Taichi.

            "We're the same, then," said The Poet finally.

            Taichi gave a faint nod, comprehending what he was trying to imply. "Unrequited love's the most painful love of all, eh?"

            "I agree." A silent sigh. "So is uncertain love."

            "You mean when one is unable to decipher his feelings? Or his object of interest?"

            "Aa. When, in our case, we're incapable of asking—them without fear of being rejected on the spot, if not abhorred."

            "You mirror my thoughts exactly." Taichi looked at his watch. "I've to go now. The drink's on me."

            "Thanks for the lager, and the talk."

            "My pleasure. Hey, listen, I'll be around for one week, so maybe we'll meet again some other time?"

            "Sure."

            "Great. We'll keep in touch, how about that?" Taichi scribbled his name on an empty card he found in his breast pocket before placing it on the table, next to his newfound friend. "Maybe I can help, you know? I hate to see others suffering the same thing I had to go through."

            "As much as I appreciate the thought, I must decline. I daresay he has vanished from the face of this Earth, so there's doubt I'll be seeing him again."

            "No." Taichi chuckled to himself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed, but I've plenty of contacts. Maybe I'll hand him over to you one day, who knows?"

            From under the muffler, Taichi could see The Poet was smiling weakly. "…Yeah, who knows. Thanks, uh…"

            As The Poet's bony fingers reached for the card, Taichi supplied his name. "Yagami, Yagami Taichi."

            In a split second the individual had sat up straight and was now gaping, glaring straight into Taichi's surprised eyes. For the first time Taichi caught sight of the hidden face of The Poet, and before long, his sharp mind could recall the face clearly.

            "I-Ishida!!??" blurted Taichi, deadpanned.

~*~*~*~ to be continued ~*~*~*~

Author's Notes: This fic was actually written for V-day, but my computer crashed down and with it, the story. That should explain my tardiness.


	2. Chapter Two

**Title:** The Soloist  
**Rating:** PG  
**Chapter: **2/2  
**Genre:** AU, General, Romance, Angst  
**Pairings:** TaiTo, DaiKen and Takari allusions  
**Warnings:** Might appear OOC, mild language  
**Summary:** After seven years abroad, Taichi returns to Japan and meets a interesting individual with an interesting personality.  
**DISCLAIMER:** Standard disclaimers apply.

~*~*~*~

            "Ishida!!??" Taichi ejaculated again, this time louder. Perhaps too loud, for he could feel everyone staring at the two of the, in curiosity, most probably to know the real identity of The Poet and his connection with the newcomer.

            Yamato blinked once, then twice, as though making sure his eyes were not playing tricks on him, and that it was really Yagami Taichi sitting in front of him. It was Taichi all right, gawking straight back at him, and was too shocked to even move a muscle. His mouth was wide open, his eyes well nigh bulging out of their sockets.

            Yamato finally regained control over his muscles, and before he could give Taichi a piece of his mind in a shape of never-ending chains of blows and vigorous punches (or a suffocating tight hug, a small voice hissed in his ear) to Taichi, the latter had slapped a couple of yen notes on the counter, grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him away from his seat, away from the onlookers and out of the bar. Yamato tried to break free, but soon decided to follow Taichi's lead, realizing their nosy audience was no more than superfluous hassle, and a swarm of busybody enquirers was something they could do without, especially if they were looking for a private tête-à-tête. And delivering a bruise or two.

            Taichi dragged him to a dim section of the streets, where upon seeing a vacant bench just where the light struck it, Taichi pulled a not-so reluctant Yamato and gestured for him to sit down next to him. There were only a handful of people walking around, but they were rustling down to get home as soon as possible, wasting minimum time. The duo was certain they were as good as alone. Taichi released his grip on Yamato at last, and Yamato massaged his slightly chafed wrist.

            Moments past as they inhaled deeply, trying to calm themselves down from all the excitement and commotion.

            "Okay, Yama, shoot,: Taichi breathed at last. "I know you're damned pissed off with me, but let me explain everything before—"

            "Before I break your nose?" barked Yamato silently, but just as crossly. 

            "—before you break my nose and my jaw," added Taichi.

            Yamato folded his arms and with a contemptuous snort, he leant back. "You have one minute."

            "Two."

            "One."

            "Geez, man, you're really angry."

            "****, man, you just disappear suddenly without informing me, your best friend, not even a ****ing letter, leaving me worried sick with the least idea of your whereabouts and condition! And now you're angry with me for constantly worrying—"

            "Yamato, I'm sorry, okay?"

            "Sorry is not enough. It never is whenever Yagami Taichi's involved."

            "Your sarcasm's as sharp as ever. I see years do not change you that much."

            Yamato's once lean yet healthy body looked frail and shaky. His face was ashen and haggard, and his brows were quivering with anger. He had not grown that much over the past seven years, but the wrinkles on his face told their own story.

            "Enough crap, Yagami, now talk."

            Taichi switched his gaze to his shoes, the lamp post, the passing vehicles, and anything but at Yamato. He could not look at him, especially as guilt was pinpointing at hom for making Yamato look like hell.

            "What's the matter, Yagami? Cat got your tongue?" Yamato's icy words cut through the awkward stillness like icicles.

            "Nah, just guilt," admitted Taichi.

            "Good."

            "For you, not for me."

            "Excuse me. I was the one without a best man for my wedding!"

            "I said I'm sorry!"

            "I know!" Yamato almost yelled. "What I really need now is an explanation!"

            "Look, if we're just going to argue like this, there's no way am I able to give you one!"

            For the nth time that night, Yamato sighed. "Talk."

            "I know I was wrong for not making it to your wedding seven years ago, and for leaving you, everyone just like that. I got the scholarship I was aiming to do business management, but it required me to leave for the States. This is my first time back in Japan since my departure."

            Yamato struggled to maintain the level of his tone. "Why didn't we receive any news from you? Why didn't you call, or at least write?"

            "I-I tried to," replied Taichi. He instantly knew his words to be a lie. "But my assignments, projects and whatnots kept me occupied."

            "That's no excuse."

            "Besides, I couldn't bring myself to talk to you," He was speaking truthfully, but for some reason his guilt was thickening. "I mean, I knew you'll be angry at me for leaving at the exact moment of your wedding, and let's just say getting a letter full of obscenities and other expletives from you wasn't what I had in mind."

            "I have every right to know."

            "…I suppose you're right," Taichi gave in, admitting his fault. "But it's too late to say anything right now."

            "Hell, why can't you make it less than seven ****ing years?"

            "…let's not talk about the past anymore. I know I was wrong." Taichi attempted a weak smile although he knew only too well his old friend would not buy it. "How's everything? Everyone?"

            '_Okay, so that wasn't exactly the smartest question to ask…'_ Taichi berated himself as soon as Yamato hung his head in remorse. He quickly said, "That is, if you don't want to talk about it, I'd understand."

            The pause indicated that Yamato was in two minds. "A lot has happened, and most of them are just plain bad."

            "Bad?" Taichi held his breath.

            Yamato continues before Taichi could stop him from elaborating. Possibly the blond saw that talking would release the unbearable burden. "I don't know, Tai, but everything doesn't seem to be working out. Everything happened suddenly, simultaneously, that we were too helpless, to numb to react, to mend anything, to prevent more damage."

            Taichi said knowingly, "The damage's already done."

            "You've said it." Yamato's voice was starting to crack, but he paid no heed to it. He held up his hand, a motion to inform Taichi that it was nothing to worry about. "Fortunately Takeru and Hikari are doing well, even amidst the calamities."

            "Calamities?" repeated Taichi, half afraid to hear more.

            "Marriage problems." Yamato found his words to be gushing down with incredible velocity, just like a waterfall. "Ken and Miyako's."

            "What happened?"

            "From what I heard from Ken, their nuptial was a disaster. He actually confessed to Daisuke that he was never in love with Miyako, and he just accepted her decision of them hooking up officially because he had no heart to reject her. You know how persistent and hopeful she is. He called himself an unpardonable idiot for that irrational act, and he's half insane regretting it."

            "Is he, then?"

            "No, thanks to the powers that be. And Daisuke. He helped Ken a lot, especially in giving him some things he couldn't find elsewhere, not from Miyako that's for sure. Comfort, happiness, support, security—in short, love."

            Taichi chuckled. "I knew something was up between those two since the start, and always wondered when they would actually get down to it. I'm genuinely happy for them."

            "The problem lies with their kids," Yamato pointed out. "Right after Miyako found out about Ken's alleged adultery and—questionable sexuality, she went berserk. She kicked Ken out of the house he had bought, and refused to see the kids have anything to do with their father, insisting he was nothing but bad, perverse influence on them."

            Taichi's fists clenched with a force he knew was in him all this while. "Huh…negative influence…"

            "You know how Miyako is. She gets her daily dose of adrenaline from petty issues. She hasn't changed at all…"

            "How's Ken taking all this stress?"

            "Despite his matrimony flop, I'd say he's lucky to have a loyal man by his side, earning his strong support and undying love…" Here Yamato trailed off, a hint of morose in his tone.

            Trying to change the subject, Taichi asked, "What about others? Jyou? Your bro? Mimi?"

            Yamato produced a pack of cigarettes from his inner pocket. After receiving a green light from his companion, he let it and placed it between his dry lips. "Mimi moved to Europe, and we heard nothing of her since. No news is good news, that's what I think. Jyou, he's busy with his life as a doctor. His career keeps him on his toes at all times, so we don't really hang out with each other." Yamato inhaled the cigarette smoke around him. "I'm sorry, but right after my—marriage we moved, so we kind of lost contact with anyone else."

            "I missed a lot, huh?" remarked Taichi lightly.

            "Tell me about it." Yamato crossed his weary legs. "Aren't you going to ask about…her?"

            '_Sora__'_, Taichi thought instinctively. "Are you willing to fill me in?"

            A slow "Do you want to listen?"

            Here Taichi debated with himself. As much as he wanted to know what had caused Yamato immeasurable amount of pain, he knew he would never forgive himself for forcing Yamato to recall his episode of agony in his book of life.

            "Trust me, I'd rather tell you and make a clean breast out of everything."

            Taichi scrutinized Yamato's expression as he spoke, and saw only frankness. "Okay, Yama, tell me."

            Yamato waited for the most appropriate time to drop the bomb. "We're filing for a divorce."

            Taichi gaped at him in disbelief. Sure, a part of him was dancing in exhilaration, but the other was utterly crushed for Yamato, knowing exactly how he must have felt about everything. "But you two…since high school…"

            "Everything that has ever happened between us was a mistake, a huge one. A terrible mix-up, I'd say." Yamato flashed a sad smile at Taichi "I'm worse than Ken, huh?"

            "Well, so far I haven't checked the other pubs out for any sign of him," Taichi joked lamely, but failed to liven the mood up.

            "Chances are you won't find him in one. Try looking for him in Dai's apartment, but don't expect him to spurting sombre stuff."

            "So…was the poem about us? Sora, you and me?"

            "It was meant to be a song, but after ages of life without music, I guess I kind of lost my touch. Besides, this husky voice doesn't make a great singing material."

            Taichi decided to try his luck in unveiling the one matter he was still uncertain of. "You told me you've lost something vital."

            Yamato fidgeted. He could see this was coming, and was rather afraid to know how he stood in Taichi's eyes. Fear of a second rejection, but there was also the curiosity to know. In the end he told himself that he had nothing to lose, and perhaps everything to gain.

            "What about it?" asked he.

            "Were you talking about—me?"

            "What do you think?" Yamato asked back.

            "After all these years, you still can't give me a straight answe—"

            "Of course it's you."

            Taichi was stunned. "R-Really?"

            "Would I lie to you?" Yamato had said too much, so he might as well tell him everything—including the part about his thinking of him as more than just a friend. "I've dealt enough in lies. See what I've put myself into after all the lies I've—"

            "You didn't lie to anyone!" Taichi argued.

            "I did! I lied to Sora when I said I loved her!"

            "You did love her—didn't you? I saw—"

            "Shows you how good a liar I am. I've never loved her, that I know now."

            "Yama, what are you saying? I remember your telling me during our high school years that you were jealous whenever you saw me with Sora!"

            "****, man, I wasn't jealous with you! I mistook that bit back then."

            Taichi fixed his eyes on him, a light of hope flickering in his eyes."

            "I wasn't jealous with you for being close to her—it was the other way around. But I found that out too late." There, he had said it. He had told Taichi indirectly how he felt about him. Now it was all up to Taichi…

            "God, Yama…I'm so sorry…" Taichi felt something was caught in his throat.

            "Sorry for what?" The blond almost snapped. "Sorry for not being ga—"

            "For not telling you."

            Yamato was about to open his mouth to deliver a question but his companion has clasped his lips over Yamato's trembling ones. As they kissed, the Yamato could feel a burning sensation in every inch of his body, and the ecstasy that came with it. Taichi's hand stole over Yamato's, giving it an affectionate grip. Yamato, in return, wrapped his other arm around his partner. He moaned, and Taichi pulled his face back an inch, giving him a satisfied grin despite his blushing face, no doubt induced by embarrassment.

            "As soon as you and Sora got together, I felt the same thing you felt about me and Sora. Jealous, so jealous that it blinded me. At first I thought I was jealous with you for having her, but later, I noticed that I felt nothing when I saw her hang out with other guys. In fact, I felt it when I saw girls trying to woo you," Taichi confessed the one thing he held close to his heart. "Then I knew…I was really in love with you. I couldn't break the news to you though upon seeing you with her…I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone. That's why I left before your wedding. I wouldn't be able to take it…to see the man I've always loved marry another girl…"

            "T-Taichi…" Yamato's eyes were swollen with tears. "Your timing's always horrible!"

            "Look who's talking." Grinning, Taichi swept Yamato's pearly tears away. "We've both wasted enough suffering for keeping our mouths shut. Hey, it's better late than never…"

            "You mean—"

            "Yeah, unless you don't want to. I've lot to catch up with, Yama, and the only way for me to do so is to finally give you what I ought to have given you years ago. Ishida, ai shiteru."

            "Taichi, you ***, I've always wanted to say the same darn words to you." Yamato threw himself over Taichi to give him the tightest embrace his weak arms could muster.

~ + ~ + ~

            The night was getting late, and they both agreed to land themselves in somewhere private. Yamato explained he had been sharing an apartment with Daisuke since his conflict with Sora, and didn't feel like seeing anyone else. He figured Sora must have been badmouthing about him to everyone she had in her address book, so when Daisuke offered him a room, he couldn't say no and thanked him amply for his generosity.

            "You sure he wouldn't mind?" asked Taichi as Yamato unlocked the door to his apartment.

            "He wouldn't," said Yamato, twisting the knob as he pocketed his keys. "Besides, you'll be sharing my room. Trust me, Daisuke'll be ecstatic to have you around. He still looks up to you."

            Taichi was showed to a small yet cosy living room. Noticing a narrow strip of light under one door, "Is he asleep yet?"

            Yamato hang his coat on the coat rack before joining his newfound lover in the couch. "They're like owls."

            "They? Ken too?"

            "Uh-huh. He stays here too." Yamato grinned delightfully for the first time after seven long years of despondency. "So you see why I can't really stay here during night time…"

            "They must be noisy, huh?"

            "Hell, I don't mind that in the least. It's only that I'm jealous of them screwing each other whilst I was all alone…"

            "Cursing me all the while, I bet."

            "You have no idea." Yamato was surprised be the sudden ring of his mobile phone he left on the coffee table. He gestured apologetically to Taichi before answering. "Yes, Ken?"

            "I know you're home right now, but we can't come out now…"

            Yamato waited patiently for Ken to finish giggling.

            "Sorry for that, Dai's tickling me. Anyway, your lawyer had been trying to reach you since this evening. Your phone barely ceased ringing."

            "I left it behind on purpose. What did he say?"

            "He told me to tell you to come over to his office tomorrow morning. The documents for your divorce are all done, what's left is for you and Sora to sign them."

            Yamato sighed in relief. "That's the second good news I received today."

            "What's the first?"

            Yamato and Taichi exchanged grins. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Oyasumi."

            "Wait, Yamato, what's the first—" The line went dead suddenly, and from where they were sitting they could hear Ken yelling "What did you do that for?" to Daisuke before relapsing into helpless peals of laughter, presumably was under another tickling attack from the other.

            "I see why you're jealous of them," remarked Taichi, amused.

            "Hey, Tai…"

            "Mmmm…?"

            Yamato pinned him down on the couch, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "What say you we make them jealous of **us** instead?"

~*~*~*~ e n d ~*~*~*~


End file.
